


What I See

by Multigemcrystal19



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blind Harry Potter, Eventual Severus Snape/Harry Potter, I don't want to spoil too much, I will add more as the story goes on, Inaccurate Depiction of Blindness, M/M, Sane Tom Riddle, Seer Harry Potter, Seer Luna Lovegood, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, Tom Riddle's Diary, for all the pairings, in fact, it takes awhile, mentions of possession, possible character bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-14 20:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multigemcrystal19/pseuds/Multigemcrystal19
Summary: After being rendered blind from a young age, Harry soon discovers he has a sort of future sense. He wouldn't call himself a seer, though that's probably the closest definition that he could think of. However, life starts off hectic as he learns the dreams he's had of magic and a place he knows so well appear to have been real. Meaning he is a Wizard and going to attend Hogwarts, which he foolishly dismissed as not being visions. When things start happening that he never was warned about, he would give almost anything to figure out who or what is able to change the future, just as he can.One thing leads to another, trying to create an alliance with Voldemort as equals turns out a lot harder then he would have thought. He is rather curious why the man evades his 'sight', almost as curious as he is about finding out why Snape hates him so much. With his steadily growing powers of what others would surely label him as a seer, Harry can only hope to try and lead a normal, or at least somewhat peaceful life.Rated E for future chapters.





	1. Dreams are Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we are. I am posting a few different stories today to see which one does better. I will concentrate on the one that gets the most positive reviews, with the kudos factored in as well.
> 
> So here's a Seer!Harry AU. The main pairings currently planned are: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter, Severus Snape/Harry Potter.
> 
> Tom Riddle and Voldemort will be separate entities, and Voldemort is not a pairing in this particular story (though if this account does well, or I get enough requests for it, I will definitely post one I have planned).
> 
> I will update the tags as I go, so as to not spoil too much ahead of time. If you feel I should add a tag, simply let me know. I'm happy to add any I missed.
> 
> There will be grammar and spelling errors.
> 
> Just remember to enjoy the story!

To say the Dursleys were unpleasant to live with when one’s name was Harry was a drastic understatement. He wished he could say he got used to things after a time, and in ways he did. If anything, he was adaptable. It was something he was proud of, could rely on in most situations. Yet, that didn’t mean he wasn’t occasionally bitter when he was forced to adapt. He remembered one time in particular. Dudley and him had been a bit younger, and his brute of a cousin had been messing around and sprayed something into Harry’s eyes, a chemical of some sort. It had been painful, but he did have a higher pain tolerance with Vernon’s disciplines. His eyes teared up continuously and he had whimpered almost just as much as he had cried. Petunia had refused to take him to the hospital, for what would the neighbors say? Vernon’s concern had been the waste of money. Petunia tried to flush it out with water - an unpleasant experience, since she kept forcing Harry’s head under the stream of water - but at least she had tried a bit. The small excuse didn’t change the fact that when he woke up the next day, he saw nothing but darkness.

 

He had adapted. Learned to walk and feel and listen without sight. Yet, he missed it sometimes. He tried not thinking on it too much, because there was no getting it back, so why dwell on it? Despite this thought, he grieved his loss on occasion. A year or two passed with him being an easier target to Dudley, and Petunia still made him garden in the hot sun, cook, and they hardly gave him any food. So things continued on as much they always had.

 

Then, something peculiar happened. It was hard to notice at first, just a feeling of dread before something bad happened. Like Dudley leaving a trap for him - because with his improved hearing Harry usually heard him coming. But traps he couldn’t see or hear, and they usually hurt. The feeling was accurate too, to the point if he started feeling the dread, he would correct his course. Other times, he would feel a bit of excitement when something very good was about to happen. Like being able to eat more than usual, or be able to get out of so many chores for one reason or another.

 

It didn’t stop there. It developed in his dreams, he would see conversations that would happen a day, a week, perhaps even a month later, almost exactly as he remembered them - unless he said something different, and changed the course of the conversations. But other times, he would react the same way he had in dreams, and the conversation would play out perfectly. Then, he started experiencing events that would happen. Though other times he had silly dreams, like doing magic or running down some hallways he’d never been in that echoed more than he was used to, but in his dreams he knew by heart.

 

The dreams seemed to last forever, and while he heard many wondrous things, it all was in black, unlike his dreams used to be. He used to see when he dreamed, a reminder of the past. He didn’t find he minded too much, not when he could know when Dudley was planning something or the fantastic dreams of magic.

 

Soon he noticed that he could change his dreams. If he thought of a course of action in his dream, but didn’t like the outcome he could restart from certain points and see it play out differently. Then, when he realized the day in his dream was happening, he’d already lived through it so many times and knew the course of action for the best solution. His dreams would last what seemed forever until he was ready to wake. Like once, as he dreamed, he replayed one day over and over, never seeming to get out of being punished by uncle Vernon in his dream. He was glad the pain was dulled in his dream at that point, though he felt emotions stronger, and it was hard to fight the building panic enough to ‘restart’ the dream at the beginning of the day. Then, he finally found a way around it, after what felt like he’d tried again and again several hundreds of times.

 

Sure enough, he started noticing the chain of events happen in real life, and as soon as he did, he started doing what had gotten him out of the beating. He did all his chores quickly, snuck out of the house and grabbed a pamphlet out of the neighbors mailbox at a time he knew from his dream that he wouldn’t be caught. Returning home while Petunia was checking his work in the bathroom, he placed the pamphlet by the mail slot at their door, as was sometimes a late delivery. When Petunia came down to tell him to clean the tub again, this time with chemicals that made his nose itch and made him feel faint, she saw the advertisement and coupon for one of her favorite, more high class restaurants.

 

Of course she took it and called Vernon as soon as she could with plans to go out for the night. Vernon wouldn’t be back until late that night, and he would be in such a good mood he wouldn’t even think of Harry. And it had worked perfectly, all thanks to him reliving it in dream form until he had a solution.

 

That wasn’t all though, soon it started bleeding into reality while he worked. He would get stronger feelings of something about to happen when he hadn’t dreamed of it. Then, after about a year, he noticed he would zone out in class, almost in a haze, and see things like in his dreams, and he could do the same things, even pick where to start (unlike his dreams, where it would start him on seemingly random days). He could see the day play out different ways depending on his actions. Then, when he came out of it no time seemed to have passed. At first he thought it must have, but he tried at school, and the teacher started talking right where they left off, sometimes mid-sentence, and continue as if perhaps only a second had gone by.

 

It was wonderful, but painfully dull if he choose the wrong day to try and relive. He avoided thinking of school days, trusting instead on his feelings most the time if he would be in danger of Dudley’s gang or not. Often times, if he got the feeling, it gave him enough time to find a hiding spot. And if he wasn’t hidden well enough, the feeling of dread would increase until he was safe from them finding him. Sometimes he did run out of time, if he ignored the feeling or dawdled too much. That hadn’t happened in a long time though, he learned to trust these feelings.

 

Not all dreams led to things happening. He dreamed of things that couldn’t possibly be real or come true. And sometimes he did have dreams where he saw things. Saw himself at different ages, looking completely different from what he knew of himself, yet he always knew it was him in a sense. Those dreams were just as common as his future-seeing ones, but usually didn’t last as long. He was almost comforted that not everything was the future. Still, the feelings in each dream felt real, the sorrow, hurt, joy, love, everything was so vividly real no matter the dream.

 

Often he was disoriented coming back to the real world from it, to wake up and not be there. Sometimes he didn’t even use this ability of his to relive the day to find a ‘good’ solution. It got boring a lot, that he knew everything. Yet, he was too afraid to stop sometimes. Too afraid of getting badly hurt. Because yes, he could adapt well to change and the unknown, but that didn’t always mean he wanted to be forced to that. Still, it was rather dull. Usually he didn’t go past the day either, most his decisions not having lasting consequences.

 

He never breathed a word to his ability to anybody. Not a soul knew, and it was his secret. He doubted the Dursleys would understand, even if he wanted to tell them. They hated anything unusual. He had dreamed a few times of telling them, just to hear their expressions. The initial reaction was funny, but not worth the hurt that came after. He felt older too, which he supposed made sense, it felt like he had lived many lifetimes through the dreams. He was far from a normal ten year old.

 

Until one day, something changed. Something that made him realize something important.

 

It was some time after Dudley’s birthday - he remembered that because he had actually gotten to go. He had been bullied by Dudley and his gang though, who tripped him and pushed him around at every opportunity. So all in all, it hadn’t been a fun experience. He hadn’t really been able to avoid them either, even with the small tinge of dread beforehand.

 

This was strange though. The mail had come as usual, and as was also the usual, Harry was told to go fetch it. It took him a moment to make sure he had all the mail, but only a moment. It only took moving his hands to make sure nothing remained on the floor. Standing back up, he went back to the kitchen and put the letters on the table near where he knew Vernon usually sat. At least they were creatures of habit, and other then when Dudley moved the furniture to throw him off, they kept the furniture arrangement the same.

 

Sitting back down at his own seat, he tried continuing eating before he realized there was nothing on his plate. Dudley had probably snatched it up when he left. Sighing heavily at the fact he’d have even less to eat that day, Vernon suddenly gasped out, “Petunia!” Harry was curious about what it was about, and listened. However, there was a stifling silence for awhile before Dudley seemed to pick up on something going on - a rarity in and of itself.

 

“What’s that?” Dudley questioned. Harry waited for them to answer but then they were actually kicked out of the kitchen. Dudley stayed by the door, while Harry stood a little way away. While it was hard to hear over Dudley’s breathing, he caught some words. From what he strung together, it had been a letter for him, and somebody knew he was living in the cupboard under the stairs. Which made him wonder, who was writing to him, about what, and how did they know where he was sleeping? He had dreams similar to this moment, but those were the silly fantasy dreams of being magical.

 

The days passed, Harry had been moved to the second floor bedroom - which he and Dudley were both upset about. Harry because he was worried Dudley would trip him down the stairs. More letters came for him, and he grew more suspicious as it linked to his dreams, but he didn’t bother when Vernon started burning them as it got to ridiculous levels. Harry was just amused at how much it bothered Petunia and Vernon, who seemed to be so desperate to get rid of the letters, they seemed to forget that Harry couldn’t actually read any of them.

 

Which led to the next question, who knew exactly which room in the house he was staying in, but didn’t know he couldn’t read? Perhaps this was just a way to get at Vernon and Petunia, and he was just being used for a means to an end. Harry found he didn’t mind that, because he was benefiting from the results as well.

 

Until Vernon seemed to be pissed as letters were flooding the house and Vernon took them on a ‘car trip’. It was when they were in a horrible hut on the sea that Harry was trying to keep warm, that he realized it would be his birthday. Probably soon. The passage of time was hard to tell sometimes, but the Dursleys had been asleep for a long while, so it was probably close to the middle of the night. Perhaps it had already passed? Perhaps he could dream again, try to see where this was really going? Though he didn’t bother, his dreams insisted on similar outcomes.

 

Then he heard… Something approach. It sounded like footsteps, but much larger than anyone Harry had ever heard before. So maybe it wasn’t a person? It did sound like footsteps though, even past the roar of the water and storm. So what else could it be? Then there was a loud and large banging on the door. Harry shot up, and turned his head towards the sound. It wasn’t long before the door was knocked down and the Dursleys were all awake and all in the area.

 

Despite him breaking down the door and being threatened by Vernon, the other was nice and even gave Harry a box that smelled of icing, probably a cake. He didn’t eat any, he knew better than to eat anything suspicious. It was still a nice gesture, and he’d probably grow hungry enough to eat it later. The other walked around, talking about tea when a moment later Harry felt sudden warmth, and heard the crackling of a fire.

 

Before he could think on it too deeply, Harry heard Vernon making some nasty comment, but ignored it, trying to figure out this strange man. When he smelt something delicious - it smelled like sausage - making him reconsider not eating. “Sorry, but, who are you?” Harry asked again.

 

This unfortunately, led to Hagrid saying something about Hogwarts, which Harry was left speechless over. Hogwarts. He knew of it from his dreams. Knew the love he held for it, knew of the feeling of coming home and the peace he felt at times, just being in the castle’s walls. The large man seemed to take his hesitation as something else, and mentioned his parents, and something about ‘their world’. When Harry was still trying to realize his dreams were all real, Hagrid seemed to be very angry. Harry winced and shuffled away a bit, even as Hagrid was really only yelling at the Dursleys, strangely enough. Something about not telling him, Finally though, he gave Harry a straight answer, “You’re a wizard Harry.”

 

Harry could have cried with joy, he probably did get a bit misty eyed, if he was being honest. It was real. All his dreams then, were real. Even the abnormal ones of magic. Everything fit so perfectly in place, and he felt like maybe he could belong somewhere, even with his ‘freakish ability’. he realized suddenly that even the dreams where he could see and he looked different were something real, they all had the same feeling to them after all. That must have been the past then. Past lives perhaps? He’d have to think on it later, because Hagrid was talking again.

 

“Now, why don’t you read your letter?” Hagrid asked, and Harry heard a crinkle of paper and knew he was being handed something with words.

 

He didn’t bother reaching for it, shifting a bit. It wasn’t everyday that he had to tell somebody about his ‘condition’ considering everybody in the neighborhood of Private Drive knew about it, as well as his teachers and classmates. It wasn’t common he’d have to tell someone, he knew it would probably be best to tell Hagrid right away. He’d seen in the dream it was best for others to know right away, many awkward situations avoided as such. “I can’t read… I’m blind.” There was silence for several long moments.

 

“You’re what?” Hagrid asked, sounded shocked.

 

“Ah… Could you read it for me perhaps?” Harry asked politely. He knew though, that he would work this out. Thankfully, after a bit of sputtering, Hagrid started reading the contents of the letter. Harry could practically feel the other’s pity for him, and just knew that the Dursleys hated listening to the list of abnormal things. Harry knew he had to evaluate all the dreams he’d passed off as not real. Something about him being the boy who lived.

 

* * *

 

Hagrid was kind enough to help him around Diagon Alley, though he kept his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and explained things in detail as they passed by different places. A sweet, but unnecessary gesture. He was used to not seeing, and relied on other senses. Practically feeling the magic tingling across his skin was enough to have Harry grinning. Harry had fallen asleep last night to more dreams, but he had yet to organize the older ones. Most of them he’d forgotten, thinking them pointless. He’d have to try hard to remember. Still, they got his supplies after a quick visit to the vaults. Something about the vault Hagrid visited rang a bell in his memory.

 

He remembered this part, getting it with Hagrid, and that it was to be kept at the school, but nothing past that. He really was foolish to let those dreams pass him by, not only not reliving them to see different outcomes, but to start to forget some of them. Then again, it was hard to keep everything straight sometimes. He just had too much to remember. Past, present, and future. For the most part though, he would still adapt to the things he didn’t remember and caught him off guard. Again, he didn’t like doing that if he had a choice.

 

While he could zone out, he was too happy to care about the future right then, and wanted to experience right then, not be caught up in possibilities. He was happy to get his wand, and got another hint at this You-Know-Who character, which strangely enough, Harry couldn’t remember much of him from his dreams. Just mentions mostly. Then again, he had been forgetting things. Most likely that were important.

 

Still, he could put the pieces together that whoever had attacked him and killed his parents was this unknown character. Hagrid hesitated when they went to get books, and Harry said if it was on the list, they might as well get them. Hagrid decided that was alright, and they bought only the required books. Still, Harry recalled many times in dreams he had learned how to read books with no sight with a spell of his own creation. He’d have to remember that too, but he knew he’d have to buy a lot more books when nobody was looking. He didn’t want people asking questions about his abilities. He wanted to be normal. Despite everything, he didn’t wish to be a freak, even if he knew he technically was.

 

He remembered Hedwig, and named her almost immediately. Another facet of his ability, he knew when he met someone familiar to him. It was like he could sense their very soul or being if they were to be close. He loved Hedwig, because to him, they had already been through so much together and known each other awhile. Animals could sense things more than most people, and she seemed to take an instant liking to him as well.

 

After that, he was given a train ticket and Hagrid departed, not saying a word about how to get to the station. Though even with all his memories from dreams lost, he doubted he could forget how to go to the one place in the future that felt like home. Never would he forget that. With a fond smile, he went back to the Dursleys, planning on remembering what he’d forgotten. His dreams always showed him important things, as opposed to when he choose himself when he zoned out. He would if he needed to though, he wanted to know what was coming.

 

* * *

 

Soon he was faced with his first big decision as he approached the train, having already been left by Vernon who was pleased as peaches that there was no platform 9¾. He’d already gone through the archway too. Which left him with where to sit. While it didn’t seem that major, he knew that it would change his school course. He shuffled his feet before going, watching his step carefully up the steps of the train, not as used to the distance between the steps as he was at Hogwarts or the Dursleys. He walked down the train hallway, careful to listen to anybody coming his way so he didn’t bump into them.

 

Counting the compartments as he trailed his hand along the doors, he found the one he wanted, going inside and sitting down after putting his trunk up. Then, he waited with the compartment door open. Soon he heard the footsteps he was expecting. Footsteps were interesting, they were very unique, depending on the shoe and the way somebody stepped. How long their stride was, how forcefully they put their foot down, how close their feet were together to make fabric of jeans brush together, and other such things. It helped him distinguish who was coming.

 

They stopped by the door, and seemed to hesitate, and Harry looked up to where he assumed their head would be about, “You can sit, I don’t mind.” Harry addressed them simply. Just like with Hedwig, he felt a connection with the person in the doorway to the compartment, faint as it was, he knew them.

 

Huffing a bit, he heard a trunk being placed above and somebody sit across from him, “Thanks, I should have boarded earlier, there’s no empty cars left. I’m Hermione Granger, and you are?”

 

“My name’s Harry, it’s nice to meet you.” He responded easily.

 

“It’s nice meeting you as well. Do you know much about Hogwarts? I’ve read all I could about it, and I can’t wait to see it in person!”

 

At one point in his dream he had said ‘It’s better in person’, which had landed him in a lot of trouble quickly. Hermione was observant, even at a young age. She had caught on very quickly to that. It was one of the reasons he choose her. She would provide a challenge to his otherwise boring routine of future telling. Instead he smiled and said, “I haven’t read anything about it.” And being raised by muggles, he wouldn’t know much about it.

 

“You should!” She sounded almost personally insulted that he hadn’t read anything up on Hogwarts. “You shouldn’t just read the assigned reading materials either, it’s best to read up on everything you can. I have, I got everything I could afford on the wizarding world.”

 

“I um… Well, I’d love to read more about it but you see… I’m well… Blind.”

 

“Oh.  _ Oh _ . I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. Forget I said anything,”

 

He knew it just got very awkward and she was pitying him, but he knew exactly what to do, “No, wait. I’d really love to know more about Hogwarts. I doubt anybody on the train has read anything yet either. Do you… Do you think you could tell me what you read?”

 

There was a moment of silence before she spoke, sounding surprised, but absolutely thrilled, “Of course! Oh, where to begin? I think  _ Hogwart, A History _ is a great place to start!”

 

And so, he listened to her as the train started moving, and Neville came in and joined them, though Hermione was so enthused about sharing her information that she hardly paid any mind. Harry said hello, and made sure to make a comment that he heard a frog when the boy’s toad was about to hop off. Other than that, he listened to Hermione go on the whole ride there. While he already knew most everything there was, he couldn’t help but feel happy with her own enthusiasm. It was near contagious, and he found himself smiling more often than not.

 

* * *

He thankfully got to the stool and sat down on it without knocking it over. While he had gone a bit slower than most to get there, he hadn’t embarrassed himself completely as the hush fell over the Great Hall at his name. He was sure nobody except the teachers and Hermione knew of his blindness, and he didn’t want to show it in such an embarrassing way. Especially if most would laugh.

 

So he was glad when he got to the stool and the hat was set on his head.  _ “How interesting, it seems you have quite the unique ability. There’s little more to be said on that matter, since it has little to do with your sorting. Usually those with your gift go to Ravenclaw, eccentric, open minded learners they are. However, it seems you don’t much fit that bill. I see you’ve already decided where you’d best fit. So best be  _ SLYTHERIN!”

 

Smiling, he noted there was only really applause at the Slytherin table, but he didn’t mind. Honestly, out of all the traits, Slytherin house appealed to him most. What was the point of going anywhere else if it meant he couldn’t be himself? He sat down at the table, careful of everybody else and waited for the ceremony to be over, as many others around him did as well. Once it was over however, questions were asked of him, mostly from the first years. He carefully piled food on his plate, not caring if he would get a stomach ache for it later, he knew the food to be good.

 

He answered some questions, but mostly kept to himself, and they caught on quick that he didn’t wish to talk about most things they were asking him about. Once the feast was over, Dumbledore said some parting words, as he had started the feast with a speech as well. Then, they were off to the dorms, most too tired to bother with him after that. Well… Most. “So, you’re Harry Potter? No wonder I saw you with that giant oaf.” Draco Malfoy. And of course he had seen Harry and Hagrid in Diagon Alley. Harry made a non communal noise.

 

Honestly, a lot of the things others did annoyed him. Ron was prejudice, Neville was always feeling down about himself, and Hermione was a know-it-all. Draco however, had an annoying habit of putting others down to make himself feel better, and while that was the case, Harry didn’t feel like being friends with the other, or his gang. Reminded him of Dudley too. Although all of them had the potential to grow, Draco was the most annoying to get to do so. “I’m Draco Malfoy, you should stick with me.”

 

“Look Draco, I appreciate the offer, but I care about different things than you do. Power and wealth aren’t one of them.”

 

There was a moment of shocked silence from Draco before he scoffed, “Are you or aren’t you a Slytherin?”

 

“Ambition doesn’t have to be so cut and dry. Believe me, I’ve got plenty, just not around that stuff.” He technically already had both, but he didn’t care about it. No, what he wanted more than anything was that person who showed sometimes in Harry’s passed lives (now that he realized that’s what they were when he was having them). It wasn't the person he was after specifically, though it was possible to find them. No, he simply wanted the same feeling that his past lives had gotten to have. Of undying love that seemed to stretch through time. He couldn’t think of anything more ambitious than finding a person out of the seven billion people on the planet that would fit that description. It was a task, but one he was determined to accomplish.

 

Draco seemed speechless for a moment, probably because the thought hadn’t really occurred to him before. Then he spoke, “Suit yourself.” He sounded smug though, like he doubted Harry would stay away long. That alone made Harry all the more determined to ignore him.

 

So of course, once they reached their dorms, him and Draco were sharing with Blaise and Goyle. Harry ignored them as he dressed and got into bed. He decided that tonight he would get some much needed sleep. Soon he would have to try and look further in the future to see why Snape would dislike him their first meeting. So far he had not seen an answer, and it was terrible going through each individual day for an answer. He wasn’t that invested, and he might just give up on this particular endeavour.

 

Falling asleep quickly, he dreamed of days long since past in a life he had lived once before.


	2. A Great Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES
> 
> Thanks:
> 
> -First off, thank you all so much for the love and support! It really means a lot! I really appreciate it you guys, sorry this chapter took awhile getting up!
> 
>  
> 
> The Pairings:
> 
> -Alright, so there seems to be some misconceptions here. The end game for this fic is both Tomarry and Snarry. BOTH, not one or the either. I'm sorry if this was not what you're looking for. I have fics with just one of those pairings planned (and a couple Tomarry's already posted), but as for this fic in particular, it is both.  
> -Also, for those who were hoping Snape would act differently this chapter (when they meet), Sorry! Harry still looks like a mini James in Snape's eyes for quite some time. I honestly just skim their first meeting. His feelings for Harry are a bit convoluted for awhile (though we don't get to see what he's thinking), but they actually don't have much interaction for some time to come. Tom comes along first in building a relationship with Harry. Hate me if you want.
> 
>  
> 
> Harry's Blindness:
> 
> -Sorry for the inaccuracies to blindness. I put a tag to warn for this. As it is, I have most the story written out and after much debating, I've decided to post what I have. One day I'll come back and probably rewrite and make it more accurate. In the meantime, I am sorry for my lack of knowledge.  
> -Special thanks to reviewer TheyWatchedAsTheWorldCrumbled for pointing this out first, as well as guest reviewer Mgre for adding on an article to try and help improve the fic. I will most definitely use this and other information in the rewrite!  
> -That said, I did try and add some things to the story, but more heavy editing will have to wait for a rewrite. Sorry in the meantime, please bare with me, I'll be sure to try better in the future when depicting such things!

After the first couple weeks he didn’t think there was a person in school who didn’t know he was blind. It was met with much shock and disappointment, which wasn’t a surprise to Harry, but he still felt annoyed at other students. Even some of the teachers who seemed to think him invalid or incapable of magic. He still didn’t know why Snape blatantly hated him. Hermione, even with her high confidence in teachers was a bit disgruntled by professor Snape treatment of him. He had to pretend he didn't know any of the answers, seeing as he didn’t want anybody to know about his seer abilities or that he could technically read. His pride wasn’t worth revealing his secrets. So he pretended not to know, and Snape continued with the lesson with an occasional jab at Harry in the following weeks. Though mostly his Head of House simply ignored him outright. At least he'd been written out of flying class, so that was one less thing to worry about.

 

Some of the children tripped him or would pull pranks on him, seeing him as an easy target. It was few and far between, but Harry only got annoyed at the worst of times, they weren't harmful. It didn’t seem that he sensed any dread when just being tripped either, it seemed to be malicious intent that his sixth sense picked up on. Dudley wanting to trip him down the stairs was different from a couple harmless pranks in the halls. It still wasn’t enough to relive the day in a daytime haze. Again, his pride wasn’t worth willingly living in the future more than he did the present. Just for some children to dye his hair a different color or other such silly things. Harry found he enjoyed the Weasley twins, Fred and George. They pranked everyone equally, but they had endeared themselves to him when they had pranked others that pranked him, and turned around and tried tricking him with something harmless. They didn't show any pity towards him, and Harry spent some time talking to them. Ron was different though, he seemed unsure about Harry, fighting between Harry being a Slytherin and him also being the Boy-Who-Lived.

 

Hermione always insisted he tell the teachers about the pranks, seeing her trust in authority figures. Even though she didn’t know who did it, and Harry didn’t care enough to tell, not much could really be done, much to Hermione’s disappointment and own annoyance.

 

Hermione was very serious about her studies, and Harry usually accompanied her to the library - mostly on her own insistence. She would read to him the assigned reading, and even offered to write down his answers for him, though only that, she said he had to actually give her the answers. He politely declined. Of course, it took some convincing, but eventually she left the matter of his homework alone. Harry remembered his invented spells, one to read the words of a book written and one to write what he wished. Very helpful spells that he planned to publish once he graduated to help other blind witches and wizards. Despite being very self sufficient, Harry still let Hermione read to him as she did her own homework, listening to her a-ha moments or little comments of ‘of course’ or ‘oh there’s a reference here, I should write it down and research it more later.’ He loved listening to her read to him and to hear her learn or discover new things. She was so easily excited. Draco was still being an ass, but also trying to ‘subtly’ convince Harry to just be his friend. It went ignored.

 

He spent his time re-exploring his home, feeling nostalgic as he did and happy to do so himself and not through dreams. Though the moving staircases seemed to know he was blind, because they always seemed to move when he most didn't want them to. Still, after years of memory of this place, he could navigate it well enough. He also read a lot, that he hardly did in dreams and he loved how much he was learning, from both the Hogwarts library and mail-ordered books. Weeks passed, and before he knew it, the Halloween feast was in full swing. Hermione hadn’t talked to him today, but apparently Ron had said some discouraging things about her when she was in earshot. He wasn’t the only one, and she was taking it hard. Harry was giving her time, since that was the best course of action for now, at least from what he'd seen and also knew of Hermione.

 

Suddenly the doors were thrown open, drawing most people’s attention when Harry heard Professor Quirrell in a high pitched but very loud cry, “Troll! Troll in the dungeon!” Harry didn’t catch anything after that. In fact, he was rooted to where he was sitting on the bench, utterly stunned. He didn’t know this. He hadn’t been warned about this through his dream. There hadn’t been a hint of it anywhere. No mention of a troll, before or after, and certainly not the actual event. He felt a prefect shaking his shoulder lightly, telling him to move before moving to herd the rest of the first years probably. Harry got up and they seemed to leave, probably to corral other first years.

 

Then a deep sense of dread made him almost physically sick. He thought at first the dread meant he was in danger, but it seemed slightly disconnected. It took him only a moment to remember Hermione had been in the bathroom nearly the entire day. He followed his feelings instantly, knowing there was no time to dawdle, not with the feeling this intense. Hermione was in serious and immediate danger, and he needed to find her, quickly. He didn't hear anybody trying to call him back, but he wasn't really hearing much over the rush of blood pounding in his ears at his panic

 

He was sure he was almost there when he the smell of something so disgusting hit him, and he had to plug his nose. Pressing against the wall, he listened to the dragging of much too large feet, hardly moving in fear. He could hear it and tell it was in the hallway just a corner away from where he was. Hopefully it hadn't seen him, but he wasn't sure. How good were their senses? He didn't know. Harry tried to hardly breath so he hopefully wouldn’t be heard. He heard the lazily dragged feet and a door open before the sounds of it walking became dulled. He hardly had time to relax as the feeling of dread intensified right before a scream sounded. Harry was running, and hit his shoulder on the wall trying to run into the bathroom, but he hardly slowed down at all. If Hermione died here, he would never forgive himself.

 

He heard the troll moving slightly, but not Hermione anymore. He feared the worst. “Hermione! If you’re here, please say something.” Because if she was just in shock, she needed to be quick and say something so Harry didn’t harm her trying to target the troll. For one of the first times in years, he cursed his blindness. There was nothing, and Harry felt even more terrified. “Hermione!” He put every ounce of his effort to sound demanding, “Say something now. Recite the Hogwarts a History for all I care, but say something and keep talking, or you will die!” Because she couldn’t already be dead. She just couldn’t, especially not if he could have avoided it. But she had been in his future, sometimes more than others, so surely that meant she lived here? He knew that wasn’t a guarantee. Because in all instances, his actions changed the course of the future. Always.

 

He heard a sharp intake of breath and could have sagged in relief. Her voice was barely more than a squeak, “H-Hogwarts a History, by Bathilda Bagshot-” it was enough. It was more than enough. He could now hear the troll and Hermione, knew where they both were to aim his spell correctly. Not only that, but she was alive. Not for much longer, because the troll was much too close to her for comfort.

 

First to get it away. He didn’t even bother with his wand, he didn’t have time. It had taken too long getting Hermione speaking. So Harry rose his hands, aiming higher and producing a stinging hex. The troll screamed, and if he was hearing right, predictably spun around. Harry took several steps back, hearing the thing come at him much quicker than it had been towards Hermione, probably pissed off now. Harry didn’t waste much time, sending a powerful cutting spell that was admittedly a little on the dark side, and knew it hit when he heard the thing stop breathing a moment before the body fell, nearly crushing Harry himself. He felt an obscene amount of liquid - most likely blood - splash on him. It felt warm, sticky, and smelled even more disgusting than before, if that was possible. Hermione was still reciting the book shakily, and Harry tripped over the body to get to her (it was much bigger than he thought it was). Kneeling down beside her, she stopped and took a deep breath, sounding much more like a sob.

 

“I ah… Don’t want to hug you, because I think I’m covered in trolls blood. Are you okay though? You’re not hurt are you?”

 

To his horror he heard her let out a stuttered breath, sounding like a prelude to crying. Had she been hurt? Arms flung themselves around him, and a body pressed into his. Harry wrapped his arms around her, but she didn’t get a chance to answer, because at the moment Harry heard footsteps a moment before the door slammed open. It was dead silent, and Harry couldn’t imagine how the scene seemed to an outsider.

 

There was a small sound of shock, almost as if one would faint, from Professor Quirrell. That seemed to snap everybody out of it, “What is the meaning of this?” A voice Harry knew as Mcgonagall demanded, sounding rather shaken. Walking in with two students covered in blood with a dead troll in a bathroom would do that to most teachers.

 

Harry was at a loss for what to do. He hadn’t ever seen this in his memory, and didn’t know how to react. What would spiral or not. It was still something that bothered him. He heard a shuffling of feet, but there was something off about it… almost like, “Is somebody hurt?” Harry asked at first.

 

“I should be asking you two that, you are covered in blood.” Mcgonagall still sounded very worried.

 

“It’s not ours. We’re okay.” Harry assured, tracking the walk that seemed to have a limp, noticeably less when Harry mentioned somebody being hurt.

 

Even though he’d only heard the voice that spoke now once before, he instantly recognized Dumbledore as he said, “After this, you two will go down to Madame Pomfrey to be sure. First thing’s first I’m afraid, what happened here?”

 

“It looks like dark magic.” Snape spoke. Of course he was here. In fact, was he the one hurt? “Which one of you did this?”

 

Harry felt Hermione flinch in his arms, but she didn’t move much, and he hoped he wouldn’t lose her over his quick spell choice. Harry also knew he could get in very serious trouble for this. He felt Hermione shift, and knew she was about to take the blame. She was like that, felt she owed it to him or perhaps she was afraid to lose her only friend. Maybe both. Either way, Harry spoke quickly before she could, “I did what I had to do. I-I was worried about Hermione, and went to find her. She’d just gone to the bathroom before hearing about the troll.” A small lie to cover up the fact that she had been in the bathroom crying.

 

“You expect us to believe that a first year with little ambition in class or learning, who is blind took down a Mountain Troll with a dark spell?” Snape demanded harshly.

 

“Believe what you want.” Harry could hear the exasperation in his own voice.

 

“If young Mr. Potter says he did it, I have no doubt he indeed did.” Dumbledore spoke.

 

“Or he’s covering for Ms. Granger.” Snape drawled. It was almost funny that Snape was underestimating him. Almost.

 

“Either way, I believe that is all the information we need to know. Minerva, if you could escort them to Madame Pomfrey safely.”

 

“Alright, come along you two.” Mcgonagall said. Harry stood up, Hermione doing the same. Though she took his hand into his, still sniffling as she led him around where Harry knew the troll to be about.  They made it out and Hermione led him along behind Mcgonagall. They went in silence, and Harry finally turned his thoughts inward, trusting Hermione to lead him. Why hadn’t he been warned about the troll? Why hadn’t it been hinted at? All semi-important things he dreamed of before they happened, no matter what. This time though, nothing. He didn’t pay much attention to Madame Pomfrey checking them over, getting cleaned up, going back to the Slytherin dorms, or tucking himself into bed. The others had tried to talk to him about where he had been, but he hardly remembered his responses, they were all small, half-answers anyway before he was able to escape to his door. It was all automatic as he wondered at why he hadn’t been warned, whatever the reason, it made him very curious.

 

Though if he thought about it, nothing he’d ever had to adapt to was a good thing.

 

* * *

 

Hermione and him were near inseparable after the incident. They ignored the rumors and questions about it, and they studied well together. She didn’t talk about his use of dark magic. Not to condone it or learn more about it. Seemed she was turning a blind eye to it since it saved her life, but he could tell she wasn’t approving either. They both got detention - from Mcgonagall and Snape perspectively. Though she didn't ask about how he had found her in the bathroom. Perhaps it slipped her mind. Or she was just too thankful or shaken up about it to question it. Either way, Harry was glad.

 

It was actually Hermione who helped him piece together why he might not have been warned about the troll. The conversation started with, “Why do you think somebody let a troll in?” Hermione had asked, putting a book down, she seemed to consider this more before continuing, “It wouldn’t have just wondered in… Maybe as a prank?”

 

Harry shook his head, “Nobody has the ability. Besides, it’s too harmful to be a meer prank…” Wait. Harry remembered the philosopher's stone very suddenly. He hadn't thought about it because he simply hadn't cared enough. Somebody else would surely want such a powerful tool though. He already knew it was hidden on the third corridor. Somebody might have let the troll in as a diversion. Yes, that only made sense if it was somebody who could get to the corridor quickly, so somebody within school grounds. That would also help letting the troll inside. There was somebody who wanted the philosopher's stone. Somebody Harry couldn’t see anything about.

 

“I know that look, you’re thinking deeply on something. What is it?”

 

Her insight would probably be useful in this, and after only a moment’s hesitation, Harry said that Hagrid had picked up a parcel at gringotts bank, that he later heard the teachers whispering that it was the philosopher's stone - that part obviously a lie - and that was most likely why somebody let the troll in.

 

Hermione was uncertain at first, but after a couple days, she consented that was probably what was happening. Harry was more concerned with this person he couldn’t see the actions of. He knew they would try again, but despite his best efforts to look into the coming days, it seemed completely normal. This only concerned him more. Perhaps it was another person like him, who could not only see the future, but change it as well, and was interfering with Harry’s own abilities. That was possible. Either way, Harry didn’t think this was over.

 

Often times he zoned out to see what was past the third floor corridor. There were a lot of traps and dangers to bypass. He didn’t want to hurt Hermione, yet he also knew she would be upset if she ever found out that he had gone alone. It would probably be best to tell somebody, but he didn’t want her telling any of the teachers, which she would most likely suggest, if she thought for a second the stone was in real danger. Which she didn’t, her confidence in the teachers high.

 

Harry wasn’t so sure. Yet, with no way to know when this person who evaded Harry’s vision would try again, he could do little else but wait with caution. So, he waited. The school year passed with him tense and waiting, thinking of the future events. Draco had yet to stop pestering him, Hermione and him would study as she read to him, Harry would do his homework and read more in secret every night, and Hagrid had invited him to his hut a couple times, something Harry had accepted - though was smart enough not to eat any of the food offered. Ron even spoke to him occasionally, though obviously cautiously because he was a Slytherin. Harry was trying to get Draco to stop bullying Neville, with mixed results.

 

When they started doing hands-on exercises with magic, Harry would have a difficult time judging where certain objects were to cast spells. He actually hated it, and using his wand. Since he sometimes got the wrist movement wrong out of the hundred of possibilities. That was annoying, but he didn’t want others knowing he had wandless magic - other than Hermione who hadn’t mentioned it, but perhaps hadn’t noticed during the troll incident. So, in exchange of looking incompetent, he failed at some spells and exercises. He knew he’d be good at a duel against another though.

 

Every morning he went through the routine of zoning off into his ability and going through all the traps past Fluffy at different times. It got old, and he stopped after the final chamber that had something cool to the touch in the middle that he was still trying to figure out what it was. He assumed that if somebody else was going to steal it something in his vision would change. Even if it did bore him to relive the same routine over and over.

 

He trained up his magic in his spare time, doing more and more until he was exhausted and fell asleep. He wanted to be prepared. Thankfully he had everything down, that he was sure if anything changed, he would be able to go through everything quickly. Christmas was nice, Hermione got him some spell-checking quills and some candy he liked. Hagrid got him what he remembered was a flute. He got Hermione a book of course, one he was sure she would love, not only that, but a satchel he had special ordered. It had several spells that helped prevent wear and tear, but also had an expansion spell. She had loved it. Hagrid he got some good, magical fertilizer and pest repellent. He also got the cloak he often saw in his dreams from Dumbledore. It was downright useful. He also enjoyed the holidays by himself to do whatever he wished.

 

It was some time after the break, after the rush of homework while Hermione was reading to him. They had been studying more with exams coming up, something she was serious about. However, it seemed something was stressing her more than even studying because the loud, very sudden sound of the book slamming on the table made Harry startle badly. "Harry Potter!" Confused, he turned his body in her direction to show he was paying attention. Though he was confused what he'd done, because she was clearly upset with him.

 

He couldn't think of anything that he had done recently that would have caused her to snap at him though. She seemed to realize that her outburst was quiet sudden because she let out a small puff of breath before saying in a much more steady - though still lecturing - tone, "There's something obviously bothering you, you can talk to me you know. I know… I'm not good at talking sometimes, but you don't have to just hold everything yourself. I highly doubt you're this worried about studying."

 

Mostly he wondered what he had done that had alerted her, but he supposed it was obvious. He was sleeping less with everything he felt he should do in preparation to trying to find who evaded his visions. Not only that, but he had been skipping out on some study sessions when he never had. Perhaps he should have thought of that more. He was focusing on this unknown person, perhaps unhealthily so.

 

Letting out a small sigh, he looked down. He couldn't tell Hermione what was really bothering him, but he could at least get close. He didn't want to alienate her. "I just… I'm worried about the philosopher's stone. I mean, I think it's in real danger of being stolen." And Harry wanted to meet the potential thief, if they hadn't already made off with the artifact.

 

"I'm sure it's safe, besides, it doesn't seem to affect either of us in any way. I mean, it would be disappointing if somebody  _ did _ steal it, as unlikely as that is. I mean, Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the Wizarding World after all. Still, as disappointing as it would be, there's not much we could do to stop a thief. If you're that worried about it, you could tell Professor Mcgonagall… Or Professor Snape since he's you're Head of House…" It was almost funny how hesitant she was to suggest Harry to go to his own Head of House. If it had been anybody else, it probably would have been a good option, just not for Harry.

 

Except he didn't want to alert the teachers. He wanted to find this person. "Right. I guess I'll leave it." A lie, "Sorry to worry you, I'll try and pay attention now."

 

There was still a long pause from Hermione, and Harry wondered if she believed him at all, but she sighed and he heard her pick up the book before clearing her throat and starting a paragraph back, though in a clearly disapproving tone. It was all he could do for now though.


End file.
